Dog and ball

Tasha's finally getting some mileage out of her Mazee puzzle ball. It's a simple 3-D maze enclosed in a transparent sphere. You load in a few dog treats and watch her roll the thing around until a treat falls out. Repeat until depleted. Earlier, we made the mistake of putting in tiny treats that fell out way too easily. No challenge. The bone shaped biscuits had more staying power and kept her occupied for way longer.

Yup, a blur of motion she is, chasing her new toy across the floor. We won't have to worry about what she'll destroy next... for a while at least.

Creating intelligence

I've been reading Visions by Michio Kaku. Published in 1997, it envisions the future century based on the work and research that was taking place at that time. About 15 years later, today, already some predictions have come to pass surprisingly quickly, others still need a slightly longer time-frame.

But what I want to share is three paragraphs from Dr Kaku's chapter on Artificial Intelligence. What I see in them is a parallel between the approach one AI branch is taking to create smart machines and the approach we in education default to in trying to create smart kids.

"Although researchers of the two schools of artificial intelligence sit side by side in the same building, the lines between them are clearly drawn. On one side of the debate are the distinguished founders of artificial intelligence who have spent a lifetime programming mammoth computers to model human intelligence. Their inspiration for a thinking machine was a powerful digital computer -- the bigger, the better. Their strategy was dubbed the top-down approach; they believed they could program in the logic and reasoning ability necessary for a machine to think. They assumed that thinking machines -- like Minerva, the Roman goddess of wisdom, who sprang out from Jupiter's forehead fully grown -- would emerge fully developed from a computer.

Their recipe for building a thinking machine was simple: First pour the complex rules and programming into a digital computer in order to reproduce logic and intelligence, then sprinkle on a few subroutines for speech and vision, attach mechanical hands, legs and eyes... Voila! You would have an intelligent robot. Inside that robot's brain would be a complete representation of the outside world, a detailed manual that described the rules for living in the real world.

Their philosophy was based on the idea that intelligence can be simulated by a "Turing machine," which forms the basis of all digital computers. But the traditionalists soon slipped into a quagmire; they profoundly underestimated the enormity of writing down the complete road map of human intelligence. Their computer-based machines turned out to be pathetic, feeble creatures. The mobile robots built on their approach consumed vast amounts of computer power, yet they were surprisingly inept: agonizingly slow and timid, they frequently got lost. They were useless in the real world." (Kaku, 1997).

The other approach is, obviously, the bottom-up approach. This approach is the learn-by-doing, trial-and-error, develop-environmental-awareness-from-your-own-immediate-surroundings method. Dr Kaku is clear that neither is the "superior" approach and that for AI to be truly successful, top and bottom must meet somewhere in the middle.

Likewise for our kids. Based on their somewhat disappointing mid-year performance, they clearly demonstrate how their top-down learning method with heavy reliance on rote gives them a lot of information to reproduce in their essays, but very little ability to string a reasoned argument together that makes much sense. The kids may have a lot memorized, but ultimately it means nothing to them. They act like conduits, passing along information but none of it is real to them. Because they have no personal stake in the info, there is also neither structure nor framework in which they can manipulate the info to any purposeful use.

Below, I'm sharing a video clip that demonstrates how a bottom-up approach does seem to boost development in the kind of discourse required of the kids for GP:

Assuming the subtitles are legit (I'm a bit dubious of the jump-cuts), this 12-year old would ace GP already. At his fingertips are issues relating to politics, religion, socio-economic inequality, law and order, and human rights which he most eloquently discusses as he explains his purpose for not being in school today.

His intelligence stems from simply being aware of his immediate environment, exercising good sense and good judgement based on a value system that respects equality, freedom and eschews exploitation and the abuse of power. He reads the newspaper, listens to people, watches TV, reads from the Internet, and most importantly, uses his own brain. He lives GP, breathes GP, thinks GP.

A kid like this is likely to view with contempt any attempt by his teacher to give him a pre-digested 'reading package'. He might even burn it for being establishment propaganda. Our kids treat reading packages like the Gospel. 'nuff said.

Being Deadpool

Playing "Deadpool: The Game" is like stepping in the playpen of a deranged, homicidal, lunatic which, in fact, Deadpool (the Marvel Comics character) is. It's a bit disturbing because when you play a role in a video game, especially in the third person, the effect is that while you are manipulating the digital puppet you lose yourself in order to take on the character's persona; but in D:TG you get the distinct impression that the PUPPET is manipulating YOU.

This role reversal is created by the character of Deadpool, who is one of the most self-aware characters of any medium in which he exists. Constantly breaking the fourth wall, he speaks directly to the reader -- in this case, the player -- while the other characters chalk up his behaviour as just another manifestation of his unstable frame of mind.

And his constant chatter never stops! While the player primarily interacts with Deadpool's ego, his id and superego lend two additional personalities (with voices to match) all having a three way conversation while at the same time addressing the player and the supporting cast of characters including the baddies, the X-Men AND the game designer whom he berates from time to time about the quality (or lack thereof) of his game design.

There's our first premise right there: the player is playing a game commissioned by Deadpool, designed by an unwilling game designer with little budget ('cos his mentally unsound employer has no money to put into game development) while the point of the game is to complete an assassination contract so that Deadpool can be paid some money so that he can pay the game designer to come up with a better job of designing a game worthy of the Deadpool name. Wow, summarized in one sentence! Terrific!

Ok, that's the meta part of the game. The playable part is dead simple: help Deadpool kill lots of people -- sometimes in the goriest way possible; pick up buxom chicks (his people skills are zero, though, so this challenge is totally impossible); and if he's taken damage, stay alive long enough for his regenerative power to kick in. If he dies, he will scold the player for letting him down. Trust me, he will die. A lot. And then the player can continue the game from the last save point, and hopefully get better results, i.e., plot progression.

Speaking of plot, there actually isn't one. That's because Deadpool has the attention span of a ravenous housefly in a septic tank. When the other characters, like Cable, try to explain the mission, motivation and other relevant exposition, all Deadpool hears is "blah, blah, blah...", while he pleads with the player to press a button and make it stop. All Deadpool wants is to kill more bad guys and get the girl at the end. As the player, honestly, that's what we want too, isn't it? Plot is just trimming and unnecessary context, a roadblock in the way of our innate compulsion to paint the town red... with buckets of blood.

Here's a good time to present a parental advisory: D:TG is ridiculously violent. Deadpool is inhumanly proficient in both melee and gun fights. We may be used to enemies being gibbed in normal gameplay, but Deadpool's stealth attacks are horrifically vicious... yet so satisfying to pull off. It's also funny as while sneaking up on a poor, unsuspecting schlub, Deadpool will occasionally turn to look at the player with a finger to his lips, or use hand signals to indicate whether to advance or stop as he tracks the movements of his target for the optimal strike.

Gameplay is a mix of run-and-gun (while running, Deadpool can shoot backwards -- a very useful skill to master!); sneak and silent kill; and some very rudimentary puzzle solving. Equipped with upgradable personal and equipment bonuses paid for with collectible 'DP points' and some unbelievable cut-scene hilarity, both the player and Deadpool build themselves up to the climactic battle which is quite a test of endurance and skill patience. And just when you think it's all over, the final confrontation with the formidable Mr Sinister is frosting on the cake. A particularly nutty fruitcake, at that.

What I like about D:TG is that it is a comedic romp hosted by a nonsensical, sophomoric psycho who gets away with gaping plot holes; a tenuous grasp on reality; and shameless, self-aggrandizing narration. The game mechanics vary wildly, as random as the game's eponymous protagonist's state of mind, yet there is still some discernible method to the madness.

What I don't like is that there are too many buttons to mash, especially when I'm not playing with a console controller but a keyboard. Although I can map the keys to my preference, some key combinations are impossible to execute without temporarily losing control of the character. As the game progresses, more and more fighting combos are unlocked, but it still comes back to mashing the most accustomed set of buttons anyway. Dexterously uncoordinated, that's me.

Some people don't like the fact that completing the game doesn't take long, but I like short games 'cos I have a life.

D:TG is violently fun and relies a lot on cheap humour (including toilet humour and bad puns -- the first game objective is to "play with Deadpool's junk," hur, hur). Gameplay is not difficult (barring the number of buttons to keep track of) but does take time to figure out the right timing to balance kill efficiency with long-term survivability. However, after playing the game once through, there seems to be little incentive for replay. Maybe that's for the best. Summer vacation is over.

Resident artist

Every day I get a surprise piece of installation art from my resident artist, Tasha. Today, she has outdone herself by discovering and using new materials from the wardrobe which she has learned to open. Not that it's hard to learn -- it slides open at the gentlest push. In this masterpiece, she has also included tissue and whatever they call paper used for wrapping new clothes in, and also the hard copy of her blood test results for a macabre touch. AND a (thankfully) unused poo bag, all carefully shredded and distributed across the floor, presumably to protest against the use of mines in warfare.

Car park tag

Every time the beginning of the month rolls around, I play 'tag' with him whom I call the 'Chief Elf'. He's the guy who manages the car wash business in my residential parking lot. Yes, I get my car washed every weekday evening at a subscription rate of $40 per month.

Our mutual problem is collection. When I have money to pay Chief Elf, I can't find him. When my wallet is empty, he suddenly pops up from nowhere and I have to 'ahem' an excuse to delay payment... next time. For the record, my accounts are square with him to date, regardless of the monthly hits and misses.

Oh, so why don't I just pay his minion elves on his behalf? Because they're mostly invisible! But they're not figments of my imagination either. I have had occasional sightings of buckets and rags, and even more rarely accompanied by one or another elf in question. Nevertheless, every morning, M2 and his neighbouring cars are clean and relatively presentable.

How I get my car cleaned isn't the point of today's story. The point is that Chief Elf has found a way to solve the collection problem. He called my cell phone. Here's the thing: I. never. gave. him. my. number! How the HEdoublehockeysticks did he get my number? Who told on me? Was it Snowden? Hope Russia grants you asylum in Siberia if it was!

Weighed down

This is what Tasha was like when I came home from work. Lethargic, depressed, even. The cone puts a lot of stress and added weight on her neck, so she can't jump or otherwise be the naughty little thing she usually is. It turns out that the cone has been quite ineffective, anyway. Apparently, when her underparts were shaved during the op prep, she may have got a bit of razor burn and that's what's been bothering her. By this morning, she'd scratched that bit raw. With a patch of epidermis scraped off, it looked really horrid. We had to cover it, but her T-shirts were the midriff-baring types, so they were no good. What June ended up making her wear is a piece of cut-out tights, long enough to do the job. Brainwave, I think.

Now cone-free, she's so much happier and almost back to her normal self. She's already destroyed her brand new pig skin chew toy... in minutes.

Cone

Oops. Spoke too soon about Tasha not needing the cone. It's obviously not comfortable but it's for her own good.

It's not a well known fact, but my bicep makes a great dog pillow.

Fixed

One sleepy dog, slightly intoxicated with anaesthesia. Took the poor thing for sterilization today. At least she's not showing any inclination to lick of otherwise disturb her wound so we took the cone of shame off. It was hampering her distance estimation and made her bump into things a lot -- my heel, mostly. The timing, I believe, was exactly right. Yesterday she enthusiastically humped my forearm while I was watching TV. First time I've ever seen her do that, and probably the last time too.

And for once, a cat voluntarily climbed into the hammock of the huge cat tree that has until now been vacant of users. Hopefully, the others will follow his example else no one will ever miss the white elephant in the room.

Noisy dog

Took Tasha back to K9 Kafe with the intention of using the peace and quiet and relaxed atmosphere to enjoy lunch and get some assignment grading done. I ordered a spaghetti with chicken wings (odd combination). Tasha had a beef steak with diced baked potato. Evidently, she enjoyed her steak very much. She would not sit still. She had no concept of delayed gratification. She would not wait for me to put a cube of meat on a fork piece by piece. In between mouthfuls (hers and mine) she kept barking in that high pitched, irritating yap that sends shockwaves through the brain. That's her "I know my rights" bark. The one she reserves for unwelcome house guests is worse. Anyway, it wasn't the ambience or the food that put paid to my plans. It was the dog.

Fibred up!

After getting the fibre line installed in my house I never activated it. That's because at the same time, Starhub upgraded my service to 50 mbps and gave me a free cable modem to supply the bandwidth. That was just shy of two years ago. Now Starhub's offering me a fibre upgrade and I've accepted. In a simple procedure, the 'hub rep hooked up the fibre gateway and wireless router for me. I'm downloading YouTube videos at 100 mbps in HD, with no buffering time. This is not to say that they're good videos or anything; it's just a speed benchmark I can appreciate. For all this combined with my existing cable TV subscription, the monthly bill comes down a couple of bucks. Nice.

Devil cat

Pebbles, the devil cat, has come to stay again while May is in LA. This reaction is in response to Tasha who has grown a bit, she is no longer afraid of him but is instead challenging and taunting him -- from the safety of behind my legs.

There are no "critics"

There is a phrase that keeps cropping up in this current batch of GP essays I'm grading. "Detractors/Critics of my view..." It irks me because the logical premise does not hold. If the intention of the essayist is to provide a "balanced" proposition, which party could possibly be a detractor or critic of that proposition? Logically, an UN-balanced idiot, moron, psycho, extremist, terrorist or otherwise someone with whom you should avoid eye contact, let alone engage in a reasoned debate.

The confusion I find myself in when grading such essays is that there is little to no signposting as to where the so-called critic's spiel begins and ends, and where the essayist's rejoinder or refutation begins. I find myself correcting poor arguments, only to realize that they were meant to be poor because they were allegedly the "critic's" arguments. Why work for the other guy, creating his argument for him before taking it all down again? Why put yourself on the defensive and struggle to regain ground you've lost... to yourself?

Don't speak on behalf of others you don't agree with. Most of the time, you'll misrepresent them or worse, create a bad straw-man argument because it won't be in your interest to make their case too strong. But that's going to upset me because I don't want to read bad arguments. Bad argument, bad grade. I'm sorry.

A good essay advances an argument. It sets up clear checkpoints and meticulously covers ground to meet them in sequence, step-by-step. There are no critics, no "opposition". I don't care what other people are saying; I want to hear what YOU are saying. What YOUR assessment of the situation is. What YOUR intention is in making me read through all this information you are presenting to me. That's it.

You kids want 'A' grades, so write like 'A' graders. Don't hide behind a barrage of information, most of which is smokescreen, anyway. You'll survive, probably, but 'A's are medals for those who dare to stand out. So, actually be informed. Take a real stand. Find your voice. Say what you really want to say. That's where the insight is.

Thanks for trying, better luck next time

Tasha is so very proud of her Certificate of Participation in her novice class in basic obedience training. Notice it's for "participation", not for actually passing the course. We expected this outcome, of course. The naughty girl sat when she was supposed to "stand", stood when she was supposed to "down", remained stationary when she was supposed to "come".

It's ok. She's welcome to recourse through another 10-week ordeal for free, or until she passes. At least she showed up to take the exam.

K9 Kafe: great food in a hard-to-find location

On another pet-friendly food establishment run. We are at the K9 Kafe, Grandstand. However, it isn't actually located at the Grandstand building, but in a smaller set of buildings that might have been the stables when this place was the Turf Club. K9 Kafe is part of K9 Campus which houses dog grooming, daycare and veterinary services. The place could use better signage because it took us a couple of phone calls to the cafe for directions. Driving, you're more likely to find the place when you're almost exiting the main complex. It's right at a T-junction at the south end of the Grandstand. Don't drive too quickly or you might miss it.

On the doggie menu, Tasha enjoyed the shepherd's pie with a side of veggies.

She was really excited when the supreme pizza came. It was packed with ham, loads of cheese, some bacon and pepperoni and green peppers. It had the fragrance of very freshly made pizza, homely and it's a flavour I've missed since I got acquainted with it since TO days.

If you look past the chair, that's my burger being grilled on a propane BBQ. That's a summer tradition I've also missed since TO days. I apologize for adding more smoke to the haze but... totally worth it!

I didn't know when I ordered it but my burger was a double! The grilling left the patties juicy, but what the menu said were baby portobello mushrooms look more like champignon mushrooms to me. Eh, who cares? The whole thing was awesome to bite into, and once again, that home-made freshness came through.

The aftermath. Everything. clean. The food might have been so good because the staff probably took the time to pay attention to the details. The pace was unhurried, the portions lavish. This place could use better business, but until then it's a great place to grade assignments... with dog.

A taste of Penang

Considering we are a group of friends who met to eat so frequently once upon a time, it's nice that we can find the time these days to meet once in a while, when one or the other of us makes a return trip to visit us here in sunny (ahem) S'pore.

Anyway, here we are at Penang Place. Really good Penang food buffet where we can stuff ourselves silly with authentic street food for a very decent price of $29.90++. How authentic? The char koay teow has see hum in it! The rojak is deliciously fruity. Beware the assam laksa -- hot on the tongue, hotter in the stomach! Be thankful for the chendol and ice kachang to cool you down after. Definitely a place we can bring parents to.

My vacation in Bioshock: Infinite

Looks like the vacation is prematurely over. Been recalled from Columbia, but although I haven't uncovered all its secrets, I have completed the main tour.

Columbia is a city in the clouds. Set in 1912 and made to float on high by complex quantum mechanics it is a beautiful town when you arrive. It is also devoutly religious, with the citizens swayed by their leader and Prophet, Father Comstock.

While the place is quite lovely, I'm not here for the scenery. Because of what I owe on the surface, I'm up here to abduct the one thing these Columbians hold dear, their "Lamb". Upon delivery to my mysterious employers, they will "wipe away the debt".

Yes, I'm a bad person, and I know it. My presence here will disrupt the peace of this miraculous floating city and make the inhabitants very upset with me. But I never imagined that my actions would spark off a civil war, and at the same time uncover the horrifying plans Father Comstock has for the world below. The Lamb I came to take is the key.

Although I don't have much justification for my actions, it makes me feel better that the privileged Columbians are white supremacists who keep black slaves and exploit Chinese labourers and craftsmen. It doesn't help that the freedom movement (a.k.a. Vox Populi) is intent on wiping out their previous masters, so it doesn't look like I'm on anybody's side in this war. I just want to get off this cloud city with my prize and shoot everyone who tries to stop me. Simple enough.

My assets are a wide range of weapons starting with an effective sky-hook which doubles as a melee weapon as well as a means of zipping around town on sky-rails which are normally meant for mass transport. All other hand weapons are upgradable, though I prefer the carbine as rapid-fire one-shots are more accurate than auto-fire. There are also Vigors to collect: biological enhancements that allow me to do superhuman things like set people on fire or electrocute them from a distance. Occasionally, I also find articles of clothing that amplify the effects of my fighting capabilities with brief invulnerability or to extract more hurt, for example.

My fourth, and probably best asset, is the Lamb herself: a 17-year old girl by the name of Elizabeth. She sees me as her best ticket out of town. Because she is special, she is confined, groomed, experimented on and her only friend before my arrival is a giant bio-mechanical monstrosity she calls Songbird. Did I say she was special? She can open doors to other realities and make them real in this one. Apart from gun turrets and medical supplies which she can call into action to help our escape, she also keeps me stocked on the fly with weapons, ammo, and salts which power the Vigors. And she's someone to talk to in between lulls of fighting. Closest thing I've had to a friend for a while too.

Elizabeth also revives me when I die in combat. I doubt she has a divine resurrection power. It's more like she reaches into another reality in which I haven't died yet and pulls that me into her current reality. To me it's like coming back to life, but in fact I'm just being replaced by another me. Head-scratching stuff.

While we're running and gunning to find an airship to take us back to the surface, I'm constantly discovering new information about the origins of the city and further details about my mission. These little clues seem almost trivial at first, but eventually they amount to a mind-blowing (or is that boggling?) truth, so intricately woven I'm still struggling to wrap my mind around all the facets and implications of it today.

Bioshock: Infinite is a first-person survival horror (though perhaps not as creepily horrific as Bioshock 2) shooter that has thrilling gameplay with strategic elements and a powerfully gripping, well-paced storyline you just have to see through to the end. Fortunately, it's not an epic that takes too long to play through -- just a couple of days if you must look everywhere for everything (and even then, I haven't found everything yet) and a few in-game surprises that are really cool. Even the post-game credits shows off a making-of clip if you are patient enough to get to plus an end-credit scene that adds a bit of closure... we hope.

Exam stress

It's been nine weeks since we sent Tasha to basic obedience class. In one week's time, we face her final exam. We're stressed out 'cos it looks like she's on the verge of flunking out. She's been such a rebellious teenager: bored, distracted, looks everywhere except where her instructions are coming from, and I swear she rolls her eyes every time we make her sit-stay.

Clearly, the cert means more to us than to her. So for this week, we're increasing her training from one to TWO hours a day to get her ready for her test. We're going to be very stern and correct every little mistake until she gets the routine down pat. What was it they said? "Don't practice until you get it right; practice until you can't get it wrong."

But don't get us wrong. We have the best intentions for her. Apart from being more assured of her safety in public, we want to let her have fun and still trust her off-leash, and we have plans to enroll her in agility classes. Since she likes to jump so much, it would be such a waste of her talent if she didn't hone this skill and do herself and us proud.

Suddenly, although we have been consciously avoiding it like the plague, we've become S'porean parents ourselves.

Reports of my demise

Hi! My name is Gary. I'm a snail. Some weeks ago, the nice lady of the house found me amongst some pandan leaves she took out of her refrigerator. I had gone into hibernation because of the cold, but she gave me a chance to thaw out -- and I did. She's kept me since in a plastic box on the kitchen counter and gives me lettuce to eat, which I love.

A couple of days ago, I sealed myself in my shell to sleep while my shell grew a new layer. Because the seal was white and I hadn't moved for two days, the stupid man who also lives here (God knows why) thought I had died. He told the lady of my "condition" and made her quite upset. However, she'd kept snails before and knew what I was going through.

This morning, when I awoke, the stupid man saw me and said, "it's a miracle!" The real miracle was that he was too lazy to throw me out with the trash when he thought I was dead. Dumbass.

Cat tree

May bought this cat tree at 50% off at the Pets Station warehouse sale. It's meant for Pebbles, but she delivered it to my place as there are more cats here to use it. Pebbles will play in it when he visits. The thing is so tall, it barely fits under the false ceiling. My worry is, the more you pay for a cat toy, the less likely a cat would ever play with it.

Fortunately, we have a taker. Someone appreciates the hemp for sharpening claws on. Not five minutes later, when I didn't have a camera on me, someone else voluntarily jumped to the next highest platform to have a look-see.

And just another view of claw-sharpening ecstasy. Mmm... yesss...!

Party on in Citadel DLC for ME3!

Game Downloadable Content (DLC) usually adds a playable chapter to a game you already own as a way to keep replayability, at least until the next instalment. Most games don't even do that after a while (Dragon Age II... I've just about given up on you!). But the new 'Citadel' DLC for Mass Effect 3 kept me occupied the whole day today with a variety of unexpected activities that blended run-and-gun, duck-and-cover (which IS ME3) with the fetch-and-carry of a point-and-click classic adventure game for a rather unique payoff.

The premise is that Shepard and the crew of the Normandy SR-2 get recalled to Citadel for -- of all things -- shore-leave in the middle of the Reaper war. So now Shepard gets to enjoy swanky new digs with upgradable furnishings with which we can play interior designer. While at Citadel, Shepard gets an alert that he (I'm playing a male Shep) is a victim of identity theft, opening up a hectic battle with only a souped-up pistol, limited ammo and no healing medi-gels as he battles solo through heavily armed mercs to regroup with his squaddies.

It's tough at first, especially when you've forgotten most of your keyboard settings, and the initial panic of an unfamiliar combat situation, but eventually muscle memory kicks in. Survivability increases when Liara and Wrex show up to watch your back, but it would help to know where the extraction point is instead of running around at random under heavy fire hoping to trigger a bacon-saving rescue.

The one behind the identity theft scheme is an uncomfortably familiar figure we know from... past encounters, but we'd never think we would face in a firefight. A tough fight it is too, with not one but two enemies who heal and regenerate shields quickly, with the fate of the Normandy (my ship!) at stake.

The whole point of this crazy battle is to have every squad member contribute in some way to the retaking of the ship. Even Traynor (who never gets to go on missions) puts her expensive tastes to good use. Mission success triggers a follow-up mission -- which is where this DLC ventures into the bizarre: actual shore-leave.

At this point, the game goes into interactive story mode. A whole new area on Citadel becomes available, purely for recreation. There is a casino, an arcade and a combat simulator to play in. There are credits, unique weapon mods and household furnishings to win in the casino and arcade while the combat sim unlocks further difficulty levels, scenarios and more characters to add to the squad roster, simulated, of course. You could spend hours here getting addicted to the numerous mini-games scattered on this level. Your squad mates offer to play a round with you too, so you can see how they are enjoying themselves when they aren't being shot at. Even characters from the ME and ME2 who are not part of the roster in ME3 show up and reminisce the good ol' days.

There's a lot of running back and forth to meet all these characters set loose on the Citadel, but the idea is to send invites to a party you're hosting in your fancy new apartment. It's an awkward party to be sure, with everyone making conversation instead of mincemeat. As host, Shepard gets to run all over his apartment looking for someone to talk to until everyone's just about talked themselves dry. Which is probably why I don't host parties in real-life. Too much work.

The conversations are hilarious, though, revelling in the awkwardness the different characters have with each other. Prejudices, old wounds, memories remembered by some revealed to others who have forgotten, while everyone becomes more inebriated with each successive conversation. They're so much like friends and colleagues that it's hard to remember the characters are just CGI puppets after all.

So much has gone into the storytelling that makes this DLC worth the download. Sometimes, it's tedious with so  much running back and forth between locations, but that's the limitation of the game design. It is, after all a shooter first, though the story itself is a thumping page-turner. It's good to have a night of non-violent camaraderie (Jarvik, Zaaed and the Krogans notwithstanding) before returning to the front-lines the day after.